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“I was looking out for you,” I repeat. “I’m never apologizing for that.”
“Including sabotaging my relationships?” By the sharp tone she uses, she knows she’s right. She’s used it a thousand times in the courtroom. “You’ve been interfering, haven’t you? Just like you did with Chadwick that night. For years I’ve wondered what has gone wrong in my relationships—why every boyfriend always breaks up with me when I could’ve sworn things were okay. My fiancédumpedme out of the blue. It was you, wasn’t it? It’s always been you.”
A deep breath leaves me as I plug my hands in my pockets. When she puts it like that, itdoessound fucked up. But I never explicitly stated they had to leave her; I merely made them a huge monetary offer to do so. The choice was ultimately up to them. Every last one took the payout.
None of them really loved her. They didn’t deserve her.
“I might’ve made them a deal. It was up to them, Phi. They chose to accept the money.”
Tears water her eyes and she releases a breathless sob. “I can’t believe you’d do that to me. Garrett... my fiancé...”
“He took the cash the fastest. He abandoned you for a million dollars. Some fiancé.”
“Am I supposed to thank you?”
The disgust on her face is cause for concern. Delphine’s never looked at me as though my very existence repulses her.
Until now.
Maybe I finally went too far.
She wanders over to the wall as if sick and needing it for leverage. “How could you?” she repeats, so stunned she can barely speak. “How could you do that to me? We were supposed to getmarried.”
“He wasn’t right for you.”
“He dumped me. No explanation. All this time I wondered if it was me. If there was something I was doing wrong. Do you know how that made me feel?”
“I saved you heartache,” I explain, taking a step toward her. “You would’ve been in a loveless marriage—the same ones we saw all around us in Westoria. Is that what you wanted? Some preppy, smug asshole like him who thinks he shits gold bricks? Designer fucking boat shoes and polo matches on Sundays. He would’ve cheated on you a few years down the line with some ditzy secretary at his bank and broke your heart. You would’ve wound up divorced.”
“Are you a fortune teller now? You didn’t even know him!”
“I knew enough. I ran a thorough background check on him. He cheated on every girlfriend he’s ever been with. He wasn’t right for you.”
“No one is, right? That’s what it comes down to. No one except you.”
That’s because you’re mine.
Since telling her that would only make her angrier, I resort to repeating myself.
“He wasn’t right for you.”
“He was a normal man! A man I could marry and have kids with.”
“You didn’t even love him.”
“You don’t know that!”
“I do. I know because you never looked at him like you look at—” I cut myself off.
A cold smile curls onto her face as she stands pressed up against the brick wall. “Like who, Jon? Like you? You think I’m in love with you? I couldneverlove a man like you! You’re not the kind of man who can ever be normal. A husband and a father. Someone to build a life with. That’s not you. You don’t have it in you.”
Her remark wipes out my temper. The frustration and defensiveness heating me up vanishes. I’m left oddly cool and detached, like somebody’s flipped a switch inside me. The reality is she’s never spoken truer words. I’m not a normal man. I’m a psycho. I’m not somebody to build a life with. I’m violent and obsessive. I don’t fit her perfect life plan.
Never have. Never will.
We’re fundamentally wrong for each other. No matter how hard we pretend otherwise. No matter how infatuated with her I am.
I’m too fucked up for her.
